


Taming of the Blood

by Anarchy_and_Piglins



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, As in there will be a sequel where i fix all this, Collars, Dehumanization, Dehydration, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Starvation, Technoblade Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade Whump (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Torture, but I have to break him first
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-21 18:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30026187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarchy_and_Piglins/pseuds/Anarchy_and_Piglins
Summary: There were different methods for a newcomer to assert their place on a server: make a grand entrance, come out guns blazing to wreak havoc, or flaunt their wealth. But none of those were as amusing as the challenge presented by wanting to put a collar on the Blood God himself.Or: Technoblade catches the eye of a stranger and bad things unfold.
Comments: 21
Kudos: 122





	1. the air around you

**Author's Note:**

> Let's get this party started yoooo!
> 
> Please mind the tags for this one, things get a bit rough for Techno in this fic. There is no noncon but the stranger does have a bit of the Bad Touch and a lack of personal space awareness going on so-

If Technoblade were to make a list of all the terrible situations he could think of to wake up in, his current one had to rank pretty high.

Maybe not quite top five material – there had been the Arctic Empire and the hectic wars that followed, days of getting up when he was sure he wasn't going to make it to nightfall – but this was pretty bad too. There really were no other words to use when you woke up in prison.

He tested the chains again, instinctively. Even putting his full weight on them didn't make them budge more than an inch or two, only serving to press his wrists painfully into the sharp metal before they fell back against the wall.

Pretty solid work, that. Whoever got him here must have been confident in the cuffs being enough to keep Technoblade in place, since they hadn't even bothered to restrain his hooves. He had his legs stretched out in front of him, sitting on his butt on the cold stone the cell was made of. The height his arms were fastened at made standing up an unappealing prospect unless he wanted to break his back by having to crouch awkwardly.

Looking around, the room wasn't that big. The floor was maybe six by six blocks total, but across from him, there was a staircase that slightly enlarged the space, leading up to an iron cast door with huge cliché bolts set into the framework. Real dungeon-type stuff Technoblade would probably have been impressed with if he wasn't so busy wondering why the fuck he was in here. Aside from himself, there wasn't anything in the room, no clues as to where he was or who had locked him up.

His head hurt, a painful throbbing that seemed to originate from the inside of Technoblade's skull and not any wounds he could feel that would have knocked him out. He was dizzy too, his vision hazy as if he couldn't focus properly, and while he was parched a distinct bitter taste lingered in the back of his throat. The effects of a potion, then. Leaning back against the wall, Technoblade closed his eyes and tried to recall the last memory he had before waking up in this place.

_He had seen Phil off at the door of the cabin, watching him check his bags again. Technoblade could have told him he wasn't forgetting anything, Phil always packed meticulously for trips – even the short ones. This being a journey planned to last a week or more, Phil probably had already gone over his supplies multiple times._

" _Watch you get there and realize you didn't bring a shovel," Techno joked instead._

_Phil threw him a glare, equal parts annoyance and fondness as he slung the bag over his shoulder._

The door was thrown open hard enough to hit the wall, the smack of iron against stone deafening. Technoblade shot his eyes up, trying not to wince at how the noise aggravated his headache. There was a shape standing in the doorway, backlit and indiscernible through the blur. They started down the stairs slowly, step by step. Taking their damn time.

Techno closed his eyes again, sinking back into the memory.

_Phil gave one final wave over his shoulder as he disappeared from view. Ranboo was waving back, shuffling on his feet in the snow and making furrows. Techno remembered him heading back to his shack too after they exchanged a few words, as Techno set off for the dog house to do the morning feeding. By the time he was done Ranboo was gone, so he went inside._

_The tea Phil had made them was still on the table, rapidly going cold. Technoblade remembered picking it up._

_After that-_

The one who had entered the room hummed, the kind of low-pitched reverberation of amused curiosity usually reserved for people Technoblade distinctly disliked. He could already tell he was not going to get along with this person, regardless of the whole kidnapping and chaining him up in a basement thing.

Finally, he looked up at them on the staircase, to note with faint confusion it wasn't anybody he recognized.

Which was not entirely unexpected perhaps. Techno wasn't exactly known for being the most popular guy around and had made plenty of enemies on the server, but his notoriety would keep most of them from doing something as overtly stupid as whatever this was. After the Butcher Army disaster, he thought his days of being hunted for sport had been behind him. It made sense that this person was somebody who hadn't gotten the message.

Their stride had a playful lightness to it as they skipped the last step. "Well fancy meeting you here!" Their speaking voice was even more grating than he expected. As they approached Techno, he strained his eyes to focus, until he could finally make out their face from the haze over his vision. As if to help him do so, they kneeled in front of him and cupped his chin with one hand, forcing him to look up at them. "Then again, maybe not since I was the one who took you home."

Their lighthearted tone stunned him and Technoblade frowned. "What?"

"Hmm, not as eloquent as they told me you were," they chimed while taking a step back, sounding amused at his expense. It made anger flare up in his gut.

He didn't need the voices to know the violent urge to kill this person running in his veins. He wanted so badly to tear down the shackles keeping his arms suspended above him, clasp his hands around their throat and squeeze until they had gone pale and hollow. Rip their throat out, gore them until their guts spilled, _kill them_ \- but the pounding in his head hadn't stopped and he already knew the chains were too sturdy.

So instead Techno bared his tusks and growled his annoyance.

They drew up an eyebrow, less than impressed. Then they stepped forward to breach the remainder of the distance between them again, face to face. "Threatening me already?" Their eyes were a light grey like the moon when it had reached its peak, obscured by strands of dark hair. "Funny thing is you haven't even asked me why you're here yet. I expected that to be your first question."

Talking was straining through his parched throat, but hell if Techno was going to let that show. He swallowed and mustered up his effort to speak. "Funny thing is I don't particularly care."

"Oh?" Their lips curled upwards. "And why's that?"

"Because I don't expect to stick around long enough to find out, really."

It hadn't been a bluff – a warning maybe, but not a bluff – yet the man just laughed.

And not even a light chuckle, full-on breathless doubled over laughter. They slapped their knee, acting as if his intimidation was a joke to them. As they leaned back on their heels, drew their shoulders up, they mockingly pretended to wipe a tear from their eye. "Good one. Now it's my turn to tell you something."

With a single quick movement, they had come close enough to make Technoblade profoundly uncomfortable. Their slender fingers weaved into the long strands of his hair - almost gently so - until they got close enough to his scalp to grab a painful hold on him. They angled his head up, the position he had been shackled in making it so they could look down at him more easily.

"I'm not scared of you," they said coldly. Techno would have snorted at those words since he had heard them a hundred times before, usually from men he was about to slay, if a sharp tug on his hair didn't keep him from doing so. "What's more, I want you to know I absolutely relish this. I'm afraid your reputation proceeds you, Blood God. It has made you the predictable choice for somebody with my ambitions. But I won't lie and say I won't enjoy this."

"What are you even going on about?" Techno managed through grinding teeth. Every inch of him was screaming out to bite this guy's nasty fingers so they would never lay a hand on him again, but even more so his instincts told him that would only make the situation worse.

A chuckle reverberated through their chest, and with them pressed so close against him Techno could almost feel it echo across his skin. The hand not twined in his hair moved over his body slowly, appraising him in a decidedly unpleasant way. "Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?"

"Not really." Keeping his voice careless was a chore. He wanted to move, to kick, to fling this puny human off him like it was nothing, but between the chains and the drugs, his body refused him. "But I have a sneaking suspicion you're about to tell me."

With a slight hum, they finally let go of his hair. The painful prickling lingered, but Techno ignored it when they hooked their hand around the front of his shirt instead, pulling him closer still. Their breath ghosted against his mouth. "Hm, maybe not. I could just leave you in anticipation."

"Don't do me any favors."

Another short laugh as they lightly shoved him back against the wall, straightening to their full posture. They were tall, not as tall as Technoblade probably but the angle wasn't helping any. Lanky limbs reminded Techno of a spider or some other kind of insect. The kind that most loved having their prey at their mercy, helpless to escape.

"Glad we're on the same page." Their smile stretched across their face, thin and insincere. "You're a smart thing, you'll figure it out soon enough anyway. In the meantime, we can start on your training."

If he had any more energy left in him to expend, Technoblade would have probably bristled at the choice of those terms. It stuck on his tongue, iron and resentment. He wasn't going to dwell on how a single word could make the blood freeze in his veins, make his heart stall in his chest.

He wasn't going to dwell on any unpleasant memories it could stir.

Not when it was such an easy thing to push down, turn away, lock it up in a small box that had the voices chanting in disapproval and him crawling with it beneath his skin.

Until they reached into their pocket and pulled out a long flat circle of metal that glinted in the torchlight.

" _You'll make a good fighter, someday." That person had said. "A fine weapon."_

They took a step forward and Technoblade lashed out with one leg, too alarmed to aim right. They sidestepped him easily, the collar in their hands already unlatched. Blind panic made him kick again, managing to hit them in the knee this time but they recovered too fast, and then their hand was in his hair once more.

Pulling forward first, they slammed his head into the wall hard enough for stars to explode in Technoblade's vision. The headache erupted, overcame him, and he was barely aware of the collar being tightened around his neck until he could feel the squeeze of it. The man left his hand to linger above it, pressed to his throat. Seconds away from cutting off his airway.

"You didn't like that one bit, did you?" they asked, and it was with some detached satisfaction that Techno noted the pained undertone of their voice. They might have won, but he had still managed to hurt them. "Not keen on behaving yourself?"

Technoblade spit in their face.

Their hand pushed down, fingertips pressing bruises into his throat and he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything. Blood dripped down the back of Techno's head while dark spots danced around his vision, overtaking all else. They let go seconds before he could pass out.

"You know, I'm feeling quite generous so I'm letting you off easy for that one," they said, mock affection dripping from every syllable as they petted his cheek. "But starting tomorrow, we'll have to teach you how a pet shouldn't disobey their master, or there'll be punishments."

Before Technoblade could even process his own nausea at that statement they had already left, slamming the door behind them.


	2. all of the world will know

Technoblade made to-do lists.

He didn't know when he started doing that. Perhaps it was one of the few things he had from before his memory started, the swirling vague mess that was his life prior to Phil taking him in. Trying to retrieve any remembrance from that time was shaky at best – painful at worst – so Techno had given up on it ages ago. But some things he knew he'd had since before then: the voices, the scars along his arms, and making to-do lists.

It kept him grounded, kept his brain from wandering off and trying to do a million things at once. Then he would forget to eat or sleep or do _anything_ until his body caved in on itself. Which was less than ideal for a multitude of reasons.

In the bright torch glow of the cell – which Technoblade had dully realized had no windows or any other way to tell the time – he made a to-do list. And at the very top, he put getting out of his imprisonment, followed with a simple _kill them_. That should suffice as a reminder.

The door swung open again, much less violently this time, and the same person as before framed the doorway. Technoblade observed them carefully where he hadn't previously, committing any important details to memory. Their hair was the color of charcoal, cropped short in the back but longer up front where it framed their face, narrow features and sharp angles. They were wearing no armor over their loose-fitting casual clothes, still unconcerned about Technoblade's ability to harm them. Something he could use to his advantage.

There was no enemy more dangerous than one underestimated by its opponent.

In one hand they were holding a chain, thin like rope and looped around their fist. When the light caught on the metal it almost seemed to glow, reflecting iridescent purple sheens.

"Rise and shine," they said in their horrible sing-song voice, glee dripping from every syllable. Techno didn't feel the need to comment on the fact that he was already awake, hadn't slept at all in fact. He simply glared. The man grinned at him.

"I hope the accommodations weren't too harsh?" they continued unperturbed, unfurling the chain slowly. "You might get more privileges if you show me you can play nice."

"I can play _very_ nice," Technoblade deadpanned. "Why don't you unlock these and find out?" He rattled the cuffs still keeping his arms up. Overnight the position had become increasingly straining, leaving his shoulders with a dull ache that shot down the joints whenever he breathed.

To his surprise, the man nodded, done drawing the chain out to its full length. They approached from the side as if they were still wary of Techno trying to kick their feet from under them. He might have considered it too, but he wasn't that desperate yet. Stopping beside him, the man took another moment of looking down at him. Then they raised their foot and planted it firmly on Techno's left shoulder.

The pain was instantaneous, almost bad enough to rip a sound from Technoblade's throat which he stubbornly squashed by biting his own tongue. Pushing down, the man ground his heel into the muscle relentlessly. Despite his best efforts, Technoblade gasped.

"Sorry about this, but I do think I'll take the precaution." The man laughed lightly, sounding the furthest from apologetic imaginable. With their free hand, they tapped against the back of Technoblade's head, forcing it forward. The unpleasant sensation of dried blood in his hair was a sudden awareness, but even more worrisome was the click of metal as the man attached the chain they had brought to some unseen part of the collar. In one smooth motion, they released Technoblade's arms from the wall, leaving them to fall into his lap uselessly, and fastened the other end of the chain there instead.

With a final warning press against his shoulder, the man stepped back. "Much better, wouldn't you say?"

Technoblade grunted, flexing his arms in the hope of getting any sensation back into them after having them restrained for too long. His wrists were still secured together by the cuffs, but there was some leeway so he could use them for basic tasks. The new method of restraining him also meant he could stand up and walk around the cell, though he assumed the length of the chain would keep his range in check.

The thought was interrupted by the man gripping his hair yet again, sharp nails digging into his scalp. Pulling his head sideways, there was a hiss next to his ear. "I believe I asked you a question. Answer me."

"Y-Yes," Technoblade forced out, screwing his eyes shut against the pinpricks of pain rattling around through his skull.

Letting go, the man shifted until they were in front of him again, crossing their arms. The way they looked at him like a parent scolding a child had shivers running up Technoblade's spine. "It's a start," they said mildly. "Lesson one: you answer me when I speak to you, always. Is that understood?"

Resisting the urge to rile them up just by playing mute, Technoblade shrugged. "Sure, whatever."

The man's boot connected with his ribcage, knocking the air from Techno's lungs. He doubled over, grateful that the length of the chain on the collar was at least long enough to keep him from choking himself.

"Lesson two: you will address me appropriately. Either master or sir, take your pick."

Technoblade raised his head again, glowering at the man from between the strands of his hair that had fallen in front of his face. The braid he had put his hair in yesterday had almost completely come undone, leaving most of it to fall around his shoulders freely. "That's not happening," he said firmly.

A second kick hit him lower, in his abdomen. Coughing up nothing but bile since he hadn't eaten, Technoblade barely registered the man's next words through the haze in his head. "It wasn't a suggestion. It was a command, pet."

The use of that word was what sent him over the edge. Technoblade was on his feet before he could help it, legs swaying unsteadily beneath him from disuse. But he didn't need a lot of effort. All he needed was to wrap the shackles still hung between his wrists around the man's throat and pull. Have them dig into their throat, crush their veins beneath his force. All he needed was-

He hadn't forgotten about the collar. It was impossible for Technoblade to forget, every touch of the metal against his throat feeling like the threat of a knife to his jugular. There wasn't anything he loathed as much, its presence a constant. But the chain the man had fastened was thin. One harsh pull and Technoblade was certain he could snap it.

Which might have been a foregone conclusion for him to leap to. Of course it couldn't be that easy.

Taking a few steps back, the man raised his hands placatingly, a fake white flag of surrender that should have been enough to tip Technoblade off to the fact that it was a trap. The realization sunk in at the same moment he felt the chain on the collar pull taut.

What happened next was an agony unable to be described.

_Years ago – eons ago – Technoblade had been small and stupid and Phil had told him to watch his step in the Nether. "Lava is not a good way to go, mate," he had said, wiping the sweat off his brow. "Slow too."_

_Technoblade had nodded and stared into the swirling mass of molten rock. The shapes were hypnotic, drawing him in with their sluggish flow but if Phil said it was dangerous, it had to be true._

_Still, he hadn't known why he felt the urge to reach out and dip a finger into the mesmerizing liquid._

_He had pulled out a second later, transfixed by the sensation of burning flesh. It had hurt – it had hurt worse than anything else Technoblade had ever felt. The pain clogged up his throat and made it impossible to even scream._

Why had that memory stuck with him?

The fire was inside him, coursing through his veins and setting aflame every inch of his body as it spread from his throat in every direction. Technoblade scrambled on the ground, unable to escape it as it burnt him from the inside out, gasping for air or reason. Pushing off his hooves he scooted back against the wall, the cold stone feeling unbearable against his heated skin. As the leash grew slack, so did the pain in his body fade, lapping at him in waves before disappearing completely.

Dimly, Technoblade was aware of the man laughing.

"You're not a very bright one, are you? You thought I wouldn't have anticipated your pigheadedness?" They chukled at their own joke but Techno was too busy shaking to respond.

He had curled in on himself subconsciously, knees pulled up to his chest as if that somehow would be able to protect him. With one hand he had clasped the collar, pulling at it hard enough to draw blood. But there was no budging it.

His heart skipped a beat. He was well and truly stuck.

"Let's try that again then..." the man droned, looming over him once more. "When I ask a question, you respond. And you will do so politely. I will not stand for disrespect from my pets."

Despite the echoes of pain still wrecking his body, Technoblade growled. "Bruuuuh, I'm not your fucking pet."

Another kick, this time to his face. Techno heard more than felt his nose break, a crack loud enough to resound across the room and then blood spilling out across his front. He sputtered to avoid inhaling any of it, but then the man was grasping his face with one hand, thumb and fingers pressed into his cheeks. "You're right, you're not my pet. You're even less than that."

The pressure was excruciating, blacking out all else when the man shoved him, pressing him back against the wall. There was too much pain for Techno to even consider retaliating, moving, or thinking.

A tiny, secret part of him wished he could just pass out already. That part was quickly silenced.

"You are my _possession_." The designation of his worth was thrown at him with the casual taste of certainty Technoblade so abhorred. All the tension had pooled into his gut, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. "You are less than a person now, less than a pet. You are just a _thing_ I own and have decided to honor with my attention. Something I just as easily can withdraw again."

The threat hung heavy in the air between them. Technoblade felt almost numb.

The man let go of his face. "Are you ready for your next lesson?"

Technoblade inhaled, the labored breath sounding deafening in the stillness of the room. He licked his lips, the taste of iron bursting on his tongue. The tension had turned into something fiery, something wilful. "Fuck you!" he answered angrily.

Instead of the pain he had been bracing for, his captor sighed, long and strenuous. They got up, leaving Technoblade slumped pathetically against the wall. "Very well." They brushed the dirt from their pants almost absentmindedly and made their way over to where the torch was set into stone. Retrieving it from the bracket, they swung the flame around. "We'll see how you feel after your first punishment."

The man closed the door behind them – taking the only source of light with them and plunging the room into complete darkness.


	3. wake up

The darkness of the room was suffocating.

At first it had come as a relief, the absence of any visual input a welcome respite from the pain still entrapping him. Technoblade sat there, curled in on himself, and breathed through the worse of it. He didn't know how long it took, but at some point the sharp stings waned into an annoying soreness that made it easier to think and then, finally, into the idle discomfort of injuries partly healed he was more than familiar with.

He slept on the floor, the lack of bed or even blankets to protect him from the stone hardly an issue. There were way worse positions he'd had to find rest in before. After what felt like forever he was steady enough to stand up and started to experiment with his new predicament.

The leash allowed him to move from wall to wall on both sides of the chamber but kept him tied to the back end. He tested the limits of its range, noticing the burning sensation start building inside his veins as soon as he stepped far enough towards the staircase to drag the chain rigid. Not wanting to incapacitate himself again after what happened last time, he stopped there. It was not an enchantment he had ever heard of or had even considered the existence of before, but its strength was clear.

The idea of snapping the leash was still on his mind but as soon as he wrapped his fist around it he let it go again with a yelp, a seared indent where the chain had burnt into him. All precautions had been taken to keep him from tearing it loose.

Walking the lengths of the room he could reach, Technoblade dragged his hands along the walls, digging his claws into any crevices or slits. There weren't many and they were too shallow for him to get a proper grip. Mining them by hand would be tedious work and he had no idea how thick the layers ran, but it was at least worth keeping on the back burner for the moment. In one corner he blindly found a small faucet he hadn't noticed before. When he turned the handle, a steady trickle of water flowed out, disappearing into a grate set in the floor. Techno pried at the grate first, a small spark of hope igniting at his discovery but quickly snuffed out when it wouldn't loosen.

This place was surprising in how solid it was built.

Cupping his palms, the water was cold and comforting against Technoblade's skin and the burn mark the chain had left there. His throat hurt with how raw it felt, but he drank handful after handful until he didn't feel as dizzy anymore. At least he wouldn't be dying of dehydration in here. Which, considering the circumstances, was a small comfort. He spent some time washing the blood off his face.

When he couldn't find anything else he settled down against the wall once more, leaning his elbow on his knee and determined to wait out the stranger coming back. Chat was being noisy and while Technoblade had been more than happy to tune them out earlier, too preoccupied with the situation he had found himself in to care much for their rambled opinions on it, he let the voices wash over him now.

Predictably enough most of them were complaining about his current situation and his inability to get out of it quick enough to their liking. Sometimes it felt to Technoblade like he had an audience of bored children in his head, constantly looking for an escape from their own ennui.

But those were big words he better not use with them. They were idiots.

"I'm working on it," he said placatingly. "Try practicing patience, unless one of you has a better idea?"

There was a scatter of responses, each more nonsensical than the last and many of which were just spamming the same letter or phrase. He had to appreciate their belief in his skills, sure, but even The Blade wasn't good enough to contrive a way to spawn withers out of thin air. He had worked hard for those last time. "Didn't think so," Technoblade told their meshing complaints. "You'll just have to wait it out with me."

Whatever they thought of that he cut off, focussing on the present instead. He wanted to be ready when the man came back, however long that would be.

* * *

With no way to pass the time, Technoblade had no grasp on how many hours ticked by.

And while he would be pressed to admit it, he was getting bored. Isolation didn't do much for bothering the piglin hybrid. He preferred solitude most of the time – with a few skewed exceptions and even then he would need time by himself more often than not, keeping company with his thoughts. Chat meant he was never truly alone. Maybe Technoblade couldn't know true isolation as a result.

But being forced to sit still with nothing to do was... unpleasant. Despite popular belief, Technoblade wasn't even a thrill chaser, though he wasn't prone to going out of his way to _avoid_ risky situations either. He just didn't seek them out without reason. As long as he had something to keep him occupied he was good, no matter how repetitive the task. He could farm potatoes for hours – heck, days - if need be, lulled into an almost trance-like state of comfort in mundane pursuits. Muscle memory would take the edge of any hard work and make it familiar, sought after.

This was hell.

This was sitting against the wall and breathing and bouncing his leg up and down until it cramped and he had to get up and pace in circles. This was sliding his fingers along the stones and counting, an endless parade of numbers as he mapped out every surface in his mind. He lost count when he got to the triple digits.

Technoblade got up and stretched, did push-ups and jumping jacks just to make sure he didn't torpefy. Then he drank some water and sat down again. He fell into a shallow sleep, barely tracing the edges of unconsciousness before he would wake up and start the routine all over again.

The door remained stubbornly closed.

Feeling the building of hunger in his stomach, Technoblade frowned. It couldn't have been that long, surely his mind was playing tricks on him? "Hey Chat, how long has it been?" he asked, knowing the voices were always glad to feel useful. The barrage of answers was confusing and ranged from a few hours to several days. Technoblade sighed.

Sitting back against the wall he pressed his hand into the stones and started counting. Multiples of five this time, to keep it challenging.

If this would take a while he might as well entertain himself.

* * *

The next slumber he fell into was deeper, more thorough.

What surfaced was neither dream nor memory, but some horrible amalgamation of both.

_There was sand beneath him, brittle and unstable, his hooves having trouble gaining traction. His handlers had taught him to use the patches of dried blood to his advantage, to find solid footing. He raised his sword at his opponent, so much bigger than him._

_He was hungry._

_He needed to kill this man to be allowed to eat._

_They rushed at him first, a flurry of movement. Everything was a blur, the voices in his head and those on the stands of the arena shouting as one._

_Shouting for blood._

Technoblade was awoken by a sharp pang deep in his gut. The sensation was not entirely foreign, but unwelcome. Standing up, he started pacing to distract himself. How much time had passed?

There was no window, no way to tell the days apart. The door remained closed.

He wanted to get out.

Digging his claws into the cracks in the stones, Technoblade pulled and wrenched until his fingers tore. Until they were slick with blood and his lungs strained for air. He wished he had a pickaxe.

He wanted to get out.

He couldn't breathe in here. The darkness pressed in from all sides and if Technoblade wasn't able to tell the vaguest smudge of movement when he waved his hand in front of his face he might have been deceived into thinking he had gone blind. The voices screamed – louder by the minute – and there was nothing to busy himself with, to drown them out.

They wanted to get out too.

His muscles strained from the effort, a small wave of victory every time an inch of stone gave way. The hunger was a constant, the emptiness of his stomach a void deep in his ribcage and it hurt viciously, digging into him in the same way Technoblade dug into the stone. Pushing in deeper.

He _needed_ to get out.

With a final pull, the stone block broke free. Technoblade dropped it to the ground, not concerned with where it landed. His shoulders sagged, exhausted, while the tiny voice of reason within him – drilled in after years of training and dangers and failing – told him he should know better. Should know that it wouldn't work.

That was why the sight of obsidian barely came as a shock.

* * *

The door opened and threw light into the room, making Technoblade hiss when it hit his sensitive eyes, deprived for too long.

Not wasting so much time as usual, the man descended the stairs after replacing the torch in the bracket where they had originally taken it from. Technoblade pushed up onto his hands, despising how much effort it took just to get himself into a seated position. They whistled when they saw what he had done to the wall.

"I'm guessing you got a little antsy," they said, picking the block up from where Techno had left it and replacing it, covering up the deeper layers of obsidian. Technoblade wondered why they had designed it as such if it was a purely aesthetic choice. Say what you will about Pandora's box, at least it wasn't cruel enough to offer its prisoners false hope.

(In the original story, Hope was the only thing left behind when the box finally opened, wasn't it? What did that make Technoblade?)

He didn't answer at first. It hadn't been a question, anyway. His attention was completely focussed on the man's other hand, where they were holding a wooden bowl of steaming liquid. The smell of it was enough to make Technoblade's mouth water, but he was confident he wasn't letting it show, tearing his eyes away to casually regard the door instead.

"Thought I might as well do some interior decorating," he said at last. "Since it looks like I will be sticking around."

The man's face was unreadable, not giving any sign as to how they interpreted his offhand attitude. Their smile went unchanged. They put the bowl on the floor in front of them and Technoblade's eyes flicked towards it involuntarily.

They inclined their head, artificial amiability."Go ahead, pet. You have permission to eat."

Unlike before, the notion of being disobedient for the pure sake of upholding his pride was quickly shoved aside in Technoblade's mind. There was a tactical advantage to not falling prey to malnutrition and there was a clear disadvantage in provoking more harsh punishments. Where it was bearable, it could be better for him to play along with their nasty games at the moment.

He reached forward slowly, as if he expected the man to snatch it away again. That kind of cruelty would be fitting for them. But they only quirked a brow, watching him take the meal with some precaution. It was either a soup or stew, rich brown in color and with chicken and vegetables floating on the surface. Technoblade did not inspect it any further than that, drinking it up eagerly.

Their smile grew, an edge of sharpness.

The bowl was already empty by the time Technoblade registered the odd aftertaste, the note of misplaced sweetness in an otherwise hearty palette. He wanted to hate himself, rip his own throat out for such a novice mistake. Lowering your guard, taking gifts from the enemy. He had practically ignored every rule in the book.

Yet it was hard to be truly angry when he felt that pain finally subside, the filling of something so profoundly hollow inside his stomach.

The effects of whatever the food had been laced with washed over him a moment later. It was odd, detached lightheadedness and weakness in his limbs and _oh_ , this was definitely going to be bad. His body slumped sideways of its own accord and the man caught him before he could crack his head open on the cobblestone.

They hovered over him as Technoblade blinked sluggishly, feeling as if he was sinking into water, drifting on a cloud. He wasn't inside his own body yet every touch seared his nerve endings as the man dragged a hand over his cheek, rested a fingertip along his jugular.

"As much as I love your feistiness, training you will go so much easier if you would relax a little more." They sounded almost soothing, almost kind. "There are so many lessons yet to learn."

Technoblade swallowed, but his tongue felt too big for his mouth.

"And we have all the time in the world together."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks you to the people who leave comments, you really motivate me to keep writing! <3
> 
> [Tumblr](https://anarchy-and-piglins.tumblr.com)


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